


Color Me In Love

by nanero11



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Seeing Colors AU, Soulmate AU, geralt is an oblivious idiot who doesn't know how emotions work but we all already knew that, slow burn i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanero11/pseuds/nanero11
Summary: Geralt starts to see colors and everyone knows that when you are seeing colors it means you've met your soulmate.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 64
Kudos: 415





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt didn’t know when he first started seeing colors.

  
It started gradually. So slow, in fact, that he hadn’t even noticed until all of a sudden, he caught himself staring out at the road in front of him, while Roach faithfully trotted them along to the next town. Instead of the usual blacks, whites, and greys, faded browns and greens and blues made themselves known to his eyes.

  
At first, he deluded himself, thinking that it must have to be a trick of the light or maybe some sort of magical hallucination. Eventually he had to give in though. As a witcher, he knew that his sight wouldn’t be affected like this by a pesky spell or deceived by a little bit of light. Besides, he already knew what seeing colors meant, he just couldn’t believe it.

  
It is said that when you meet the one, your soulmate, you will start to see colors. It’s rare, but Geralt has heard stories of these sorts of encounters, and he believed them to an extent. After all, when you live as long as he has, seemingly impossible things appear to become more possible. Although, the idea of Geralt having a soulmate, now that was just unimaginable.

  
So, for a while he did absolutely nothing about it. Forbade himself to even think about it, crushing it away into the darkest corners of his mind to forget about. But eventually the colors started getting too bright for Geralt’s liking, and he found himself meditating on the idea. Soulmates. An unbreakable bond between two people. Someone that will love you unconditionally, and to whom you will love just as much in return. A person that truly understands you. Well, what he couldn’t understand was how he was capable of loving anybody. Or how anybody could love him…or why anyone would love him.

  
What frustrated him the most though, is that no matter how much he thought about the colors and no matter how much he tried to track them back and pinpoint them to one specific event, he always came up with nothing. He couldn’t figure out who this soulmate of his was supposed to be. With the logic of the soulmate theory it could literally be any person he happened to make contact with. Some person at a tavern, a prostitute from a brothel, maybe someone who had required his monster hunting services? And again, and again, absolutely no fucking answers.

  
As time went by his vision became more vibrant. All of the colors were bright and there were no longer any faded shades. And, honestly, Geralt was getting used to it at this point. It was easier to shove the infuriating thoughts of soulmates from his mind as the colors grew into just a part of normal everyday life.

  
…

  
“I just want some damn peace!”

  
Geralt had been shocked when he saw Jaskier begin to cough up blood after the Djinn had been released, but what shocked him more was how the corners of his vision seemed to be fading on the ride to get help. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t that his vision was fading, but rather the color.

  
He tried to shove it aside. It was something he would think about later when Jaskier was okay, but when the healer had told them Jaskier would die without a mage’s help he was panicking, although he wouldn’t let it show. Not with the way Jaskier was helplessly looking at him, struggling to breath, and with the way guilt settled deep into the pit of Geralt’s stomach because he had been unable to protect the bard.

  
With the blacks and whites and grays closing in on him, they raced to find the town’s mage. And, fuck, was Geralt panicking because not only was there the issue of Jaskier’s impending death, but he might have also just come to the biggest realization of the century.

  
After Yennefer had agreed to help Jaskier, Geralt had been left downstairs to wait for any news of the bard’s condition. He tried not to think of the faded colors and instead filled his head with the connections he had made on the ride here. How had he not realized it before?

  
The one person he continuously allowed to be around him and not just because of some destiny bullshit, or maybe it was, Geralt had absolutely no idea anymore. The person that he let follow him on hunts and camp out with in the forest or share a room with. The person whose requests or favors he wouldn’t just entertain, but would usually go along with. How could he have been so blind this whole time? He could see it in the way he would slow down Roach’s pace, so he wouldn’t leave his companion behind. In the way, though he wouldn’t admit it, the singing could be quite comforting. In the way the bard wasn’t afraid to tell him off or treat him as he would anyone else.

  
And, when he looked up as Yennefer came to get him, he noticed the colors had returned and let out a sigh, relaxing, though he hadn’t even noticed he had been so tense. She brought Geralt to see Jaskier, warned him that he was in a deep healing sleep and to not disturb him. After questioning Geralt a little and inviting him for a bath, she left them alone, allowing them to have a moment.

  
That was when Geralt truly saw Jaskier. The moment that he really let himself see the colors. The brown of his hair, the red of his lips, his pink-tinged skin, the rusty dried blood coloring the front of his bright white shirt. He felt a rush of emotions fill him to the brim and to say he was enamored with Jaskier was an understatement. He felt like he would explode if he didn’t punch something or scream or both. Happiness? Love? He wasn’t sure what the emotions were. He was sure, though, that they were good.

  
But as Geralt watched Jaskier sleep, a deep uneasy feeling swirled around in his stomach. If the bard was his soulmate, and Geralt was beyond being just sure of it, he knew for a fact that Jaskier was his, then why hadn’t Jaskier said anything?

  
The more he thought about it, the more it disturbed him. Jaskier, the romantic, the songwriter, the poet, not acknowledging the situation? As far back as Geralt could think, the bard hadn’t even hinted at it. Fuck, it just didn’t make sense.

  
So, Geralt did what he always did when things weren’t making sense and started overwhelming him. He tucked it away and tried to focus on what really mattered. That Jaskier was here right now, safe and alive. Then after shoving all his thoughts away, along with all his earlier explosive emotions, Geralt, with confusion and frustration enveloping his brain, and colors more intense than they had ever been before, went to go find Yennefer, who he had decided, would make a beautiful distraction from all this nonsense.


	2. pt 2

It had been a few days since the Djinn incident. A few days since Geralt discovered Jaskier was his soulmate and his life changed forever, since he fucked it up like he always does, and since he can’t look at Jaskier without feeling a nauseating mix of what Geralt has decided must be love, uneasiness, and guilt.

Love because, well it all seems so obvious to Geralt now. How he had been slowly falling in love with Jaskier, since they met, without even knowing. It makes him laugh looking back on it, thinking about how clueless he had been.

Uneasiness because the bard hadn’t brought it up. No mentioning of colors, no mentioning of soulmates, and in all the damn time they’ve spent together he hadn’t so much as implied anything about the situation.

Guilt…because Geralt knew that Jaskier had seen him and Yennefer together that day after defeating the Djinn.

He didn’t even know why he slept with her. Or maybe he did, but he just didn’t want to admit to himself that he was so weak, that the second he had finally figured out he had more to live for than killing monsters he threw it all aside for what was easier and more familiar. And he hated what he did, and he hated himself because he had done it and that it had been, in part, to get Jaskier off his mind, but that he had ended up thinking about him the whole time anyways. Fuck, he knew he was bad at this whole soulmate thing, but he didn’t know he was this hopeless.

And, a few days was a long time to think about something when you couldn’t get it out of your head. Every second, of everyday, thoughts of colors and Jaskier were constantly running circles in his mind and it certainly didn’t help that the bard was traveling with him at the moment. The only time he could get a semblance of focus was when he was killing monsters, and even then, he was thinking about the fastest way to get the job done so the monster wouldn’t have a chance to direct its attacks at whomever was nearby, that whomever being Jaskier.

No, he couldn’t focus on anything, unless that anything was Jaskier. Like right now. Jaskier was composing a song about Geralt saving him and defeating the Djinn, and Geralt was trying to cook dinner. But instead of paying attention to the rabbit he was roasting, Geralt was watching how the glow from the fire caused shadows and lights to bounce around on Jaskier’s face while he swayed back and forth as he strummed his lute and mumbled little rhymes.

“Uh, Geralt--”

Yes, Geralt was extremely focused right now. Focused on the way Jaskier’s blue eyes seemed to shimmer as they looked at him and the way his lips moved around his words and, oh fuck, the bard was talking to him.

“Geralt! Hellooo, are you in there? Oh, you’ve come back to me. You see, I just really had to ask if you were planning on feeding me that burnt hare for dinner. Because, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the effort, but I’d prefer to not eat charcoal.”

Geralt’s eyes immediately flew to the rabbit and he barely had time to bite out, “Ah, shit,” before he grabbed the blackened meat and tossed it away from the fire. They both watched its smoldering corpse land a few feet away before Geralt lowered his face to his hands with a groan. He was supposed to cook dinner for them so Jaskier could go to bed, so maybe, just maybe, he could try to think without getting sidetracked over and over.

He let out a deep sigh and for a moment after it was utterly silent. Just the bugs chirping and the fire crackling and Roach shifting around letting out soft neighs every now and again. Then, he heard Jaskier set down his lute and make his way around the fire to him. The bard laid his hand upon Geralt’s shoulder and something in the way he said his name compelled him to look up, although he wished he hadn’t. Because now he was lost in those blue eyes which were filled with concern and Geralt was pissed because he kept letting himself get distracted, and also because he really, really, didn’t fucking deserve Jaskier’s worry.

“It’s okay, really. We had a big lunch, I’m sure we can survive skipping dinner—"

“No.”

“You can’t be serious. You’re really going to go out hunting at this time of night?” Jaskier said this with his hands on his hips and his eyebrow almost all the way up his forehead, and Geralt knew that this meant the bard thought he was being ridiculous. But instead of paying any attention to Jaskier’s obvious judgement, Geralt appreciated the way his mouth formed a small pout and how his hips were cocked out to one side and shit it was happening again.

“Yes, I’m going hunting.” Then, Geralt was up and gathering his weapons and Jaskier was grabbing his wrist and asking him to wait and saying something about being concerned, but Geralt only shook him off and told him to stay at the camp. Because it was just easier to leave the bard behind, so he didn’t have to look at him with all those radiant colors, or hear him chatter on about all the things he had to say, and so he didn’t have to think those thoughts that he didn’t know how to deal with. The ones about how Jaskier was looking or what Jaskier was doing, and that Jaskier hadn’t brought up their bond or made any advances on him yet, and that it drove Geralt fucking crazy that Jaskier was right there and that Jaskier had touched him and all Geralt had wanted to do was grab him and maybe tell him how he felt.

And, it also drove him crazy because he was pretty sure he had finally figured out why Jaskier was avoiding the subject. Geralt had exhausted every possible conclusion over the past couple of days and only one thing seemed to make any sense. It was clear to him now, the fact that Jaskier just didn’t want him. He knew that Jaskier liked him, sure, but loved him? Wanted to be with him? Of course not, and who could blame him. Geralt knew how he could be abrasive and blunt. Physically attractive? Everyone he’s been with seemed to think so. But emotionally capable? That was a whole other issue and probably one that Jaskier didn’t want to deal with.

With that, his decision was made. As long as Jaskier was happy, Geralt was happy and Geralt would not push his selfish and unfair desires on the bard. So, with fresh rabbit in hand, Geralt made his way back to camp, because he would be damned if Jaskier went to sleep hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hit me up on tumblr - nanero11  
> let me know your thoughts on this :)


	3. pt 3

When Geralt had decided to not tell Jaskier about his feels in order to save the bard from the awkwardness of turning him down, he hadn’t realized it would be this hard. He thought if he ignored the little tendrils of warmth that bubbled up in his gut whenever Jaskier was joking around with him or smiling in that content way he did after a good performance, then he would eventually forget about how he felt, which would be better for both of them in the long run. But that was apparently not how emotions worked because Geralt continued to have a constant urge to be in Jaskier’s company, and, while he hated admitting it, he still possessed the slightest amount of hope that maybe the bard returned his feelings.

And, at this point, Geralt didn’t know what to do. He had never felt this way before, hadn’t even known he could feel this way. Something about Jaskier was just right. He seemed to fill a hole in Geralt’s life that Geralt hadn’t even realized was empty. Back in the days when Geralt had just been seeing black and white, he would say that he didn’t need anyone, and he sure as hell didn’t want anyone needing him, but now, he finds that he can’t imagine life without having Jaskier filling the space next to him. And it scares him, because he had let himself get attached, and in that moment, everything seemed fine, but he knew it couldn’t stay like this forever. It makes him sick to think about the day when the colors will fade completely and Jaskier will be gone. And though he wants to ignore thoughts of the inevitable future, he can’t just pretend that the bard’s not human, and humans are weak.

In fact, they had had a close call already. Geralt can clearly recall the panic he felt that day, as Jaskier choked on his own blood, and the colors began to leave him and the relief that came over him after Jaskier was treated and the colors came back twice as strong, as though to signify to him that the bard was the one and he was just stupid for not recognizing it sooner. Which was why, after months of contemplating, Geralt had come up with a plan, because as much as he wanted Jaskier by his side, it would be safer if he wasn’t.

They had just recently met up again. Geralt had been delivering a kikimore to some alderman when he had decided to stop for an ale, and of course, as his luck would have it, Jaskier was at that exact town, in that exact tavern, and after he was done putting on his show, had insisted on tagging along with Geralt to his next job. As they were setting up camp later that night, Geralt figured that now would be as good a time as any to put his plan in motion.

“I don’t think you should travel with me anymore.”

Jaskier, who had been setting up their bed rolls, froze in his crouched stance, before slowly turning to fix Geralt with an inquiring stare, “Why do you say that?”

“It’s not safe.”

At that Jaskier laughed, “Geralt, please, I’m with you, a witcher. How much safer could I be?”

“My lifestyle is dangerous.”

“It’s not all that—”

“What happens when there’s one too many monsters for me to handle and you’re standing around like an easy target?”

“That’s not—”

“Tell me what happens,” Geralt growled. Jaskier met Geralt’s glare with a troubled look and a small frown before he promptly made his way over to him, plopping down next to him on the log Geralt had dragged over earlier for seating.

“Where is this coming from? Because I’m fairly certain you’ve never been concerned about this before, at least you’ve never said anything about it. And lately, you’ve been, well…distracted. Like you are somewhere else half the time, and it worries me. You know you can talk to me.” His spoke in a tone so gentle that it took all of Geralt’s strength to not look at the bard because if he did, he knew he might not be able to say what he had to.

“I know,” Geralt sighed out, even though talking to Jaskier, about what was actually going on, was exactly what he was trying to fucking avoid. On top of that, he had been hoping that the bard hadn’t noticed his absentmindedness, the times when he was busy thinking about soulmates and Jaskier and what the hell he was supposed to do about all of it, because the last thing he wanted to do was to give Jaskier reasons to worry.

“Geralt, you’re doing the whole brooding thing. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Hm.” Fuck, why was it so hard to just talk? The waves of care and concern wafting off of Jaskier was making Geralt’s head spin. He grasped for words but found that he didn’t have any, and struggled to invent some sentence, just something, anything, that would make Jaskier understand he was doing this for his own good.

Suddenly, Geralt’s face was grabbed between two hands and he was being forced to look at Jaskier instead of the ground. Blinking down in surprise at the bard, he took in how his eyebrows were drawn together and how he was worrying his lip between his teeth and how he took a deep breath, then unexpectedly met Geralt’s stunned gaze with one of ferocity.

“You listen to me. I’m not going to let you push me away without a damn good reason. I know you, Geralt of Rivia, and while I might not know what is going through your head right now, I do know that you need a friend, and that’s me. So, don’t expect me to just walk away and leave you here to mope. Understood?”

“Jaskier, I—”

“Nope, nuh uh, not another word out of your mouth until you are ready to explain what’s been going on with you.”

Geralt stayed glued to his seat on the log long after Jaskier had patted his cheeks and went to go pluck out some songs. He told himself that he was thoroughly annoyed by how Jaskier had shut him down and basically ruined his whole plan, but the pleasant stunned feeling replacing any thoughts in his head and the way his stomach was fluttering and how the colors around Jaskier seemed to have a soft, warm glow said otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hit me up on tumblr - nanero11  
> thank you for reading, please feel free to let me know what you think


	4. part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, the past couple weeks of my life have been hectic, but that excuse kind of sucks, so instead please accept this chapter in which the boys finally make some progress, even if it is a tiny amount, towards talking as an apology of my absence.   
> Also feel free to hit me up on tumblr @nanero11

The bard had been pestering him for hours now. If he wasn’t lazily complaining about how he had been walking forever and was desperate for a break, then he was trying to bring up the conversation from before. He’d been kind last night by giving Geralt space to collect his thoughts, but that curtesy apparently didn’t extend to today, as much as Geralt wished it had because he still had no idea how he was supposed to explain himself to Jaskier.

In fact, he was at a complete loss. It was obvious that his plan had failed. No matter what he did he couldn’t protect Jaskier, especially if the bard didn’t let him. It left him with an empty almost frustrated feeling, an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to, but overall the situation was making him feel…useless. No plan, no explanation, no time to think as he kept having to deflect the bard’s questions. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be him and Roach, killing monsters and getting by, nothing more. But even so, he couldn’t help smiling at the very person who had complicated his life so much.

“Geralllt, if we don’t stop, I will actually die.”

He snorted, “No, you won’t.”

“Ah, how can you be so unkind to a poor man who’s been walking for hours. And while you’ve been hogging Roach the entire time,” Jaskier whined, dramatically crossing his arms and rolling his eyes with a huff.

“Will you shut up.”

“No—”

“Shut up,” Geralt groaned, even though he knew repeating himself would have absolutely no effect on the bard.

“Make me,” Jaskier challenged, puffing his chest out towards Geralt with a playful raising of his eyebrows and a mischievous smirk dancing across his face.

“Then come here.” Geralt brought Roach to an abrupt stop and watched as Jaskier eyed him suspiciously, taking cautious steps towards the witcher.

“What are you—ah!”

Geralt reached down and seized Jaskier by the arm, hoisting him up, pulling a surprised cry out of the bard who had to scramble to grab onto Geralt after being thrown off balance. After some maneuvering and a little bit of irritated shuffling around on Roach’s part, Geralt had the bard settled up in front of him on the horse. 

“You could’ve given me a warning instead of a heart attack you know, but this,” Jaskier lovingly patted Roach’s neck before casually leaning back against Geralt, “is much better than being on my feet, so thank you.”

“You were slowing us down anyways.” Geralt reached around Jaskier to loosely grab hold of the reins, trusting Roach to take them in the right direction and making note to feed her some extra treats later. 

“Oh, whatever. Now this is the perfect position to play some songs,” Jaskier plucked out a few notes, tuning his lute. “Any requests?”

Geralt swallowed thickly, attempting to ignore the warm fuzzy feeling that spread throughout his rib cage as Jaskier relaxed further back into his chest. “Hm, can I request that you don’t sing?”

“You sly witcher, no you may not,” and with that Jaskier broke into some melancholy tune that Geralt felt tugging at his heart for some reason. The soft lilting lyrics captivated him, and he found that he couldn’t pay attention to anything but the words that the bard sang so wistfully. Geralt deciphered that it must be about unrequited love and longing. 

Jaskier finished the song with a gentle flourish of notes, breaking Geralt out of his trance when he asked, “What did you think of that one? I mean, it’s just something I’ve been working on.”

“It’s, uh, different.” Geralt couldn’t think of anything else to say. How could he respond when all he was focused on was how the song had described the exact feelings he had been having for what seemed like so long. 

He struggled to come up with an explanation for why Jaskier would have performed this song for him. Sure, he could think of a few reasons why his companion might sing about heartbreak and yearning for another, but none of them were particularly convincing. That is, unless it was about something that Geralt had been avoiding up until now, something that Geralt had simply written off with assumed conclusions he had made with no evidence. He knew it was dangerous to allow the idea of Jaskier wanting him, acknowledging him as his soulmate, to have any significance in his mind, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Is that a good different or a bad different?” The bard leaned his head back on Geralt’s shoulder, his eyes seemed to be searching the witcher’s face. Geralt gazed at Jaskier for a moment, taking in the small curve of his lips and the light stubble along his jaw and the faint flush on his cheeks from the exertion of the day. He noticed that yet, another new emotion was blooming in his gut. Something warm and filling and tingling, something he might even call hope, although he’d never felt it this strong before. So, Geralt met the bard’s bright blue eyes, feeling his lips beginning to turn up with a brief smile of his own, and answered his question. 

“Good different.”


	5. pt 5

Ever since they had stopped at an inn for the night Geralt had decided he would come up with some way to talk to Jaskier about the soulmate situation. The problem was that he didn’t know how.

He had been avoiding the subject for so long, pushing it away and pretending it didn’t exist, that he had never ever considered anything past that. He could try to be direct about it and tell the bard outright. Or maybe he could hint at it a little to see if Jaskier would bring it up. Then again, he could always wait until Jaskier decided to talk to him about it, after all, this whole time he had just been protecting the bard from his feelings and who’s to say that the song early really meant anything? No. He can’t let himself get dragged back into doubt again. Those were the types of thoughts that had gotten him to this point of miserably pinning over the bard in the first place.

And Geralt knew he shouldn’t dwell on it so much, but he just needed to make sure he wouldn’t fuck up. He had already messed up with Jaskier too many times, with how long it had taken him to realize the bard was the one and with everything that had happened with Yennefer and then how he had stupidly made Jaskier worry because he believed that it would be better for Jaskier if they weren’t together. He had never even considered if Jaskier had been confused about everything like Geralt had been. Maybe they were both just waiting for the other to say something.

It was time to act. Now or never.

He glanced up at Jaskier, who was currently prepping for their bath by laying out the various types of oils and salts that he owned. For some reason Geralt felt jittery all over and his hands were a little sweaty and every time he tried to say something the words got stuck in his throat. Fuck, of course this wasn’t going to be easy. He just had to do it.

“Jask—”

“What do you think, Geralt? Lavender or lemon this time?” Jaskier held up the two little bottles of oil for Geralt, tilting his head and scrunching his eyebrows in concentration.

“Uh.”

“Yea, I was leaning towards lemon myself, but now I’m thinking that lavender would be better. The bath is almost ready, so get undressed already, would you?”

“O-okay.” Geralt started fumbling with the buckles and leather strings holding his armor together, attempting to comprehend what had just happened. He was finally going to do it, open up to Jaskier and get the overwhelming weight of his feelings off of his chest, but then he had gotten interrupted and…

“Oh, come on. I know taking a bath isn’t the most exciting thing in the world to you, but you could at least put in a little more effort,” Jaskier chided, mistaking Geralt’s apparent lack of ability to get his armor off as reluctance instead of noticing the tiny tremors of anxiety that were actually keeping Geralt’s hands from being able to properly grasp the material.

Jaskier made his way over to Geralt, shoving his hands aside to take over the process of unbuckling and untying. He made deft work of it, sliding the pieces of armor off one by one until Geralt was down to his underclothes.

“There, not so hard, hm?” With a sly smirk on his face, the bard squeezed Geralt’s shoulders playfully. Then, taking Geralt by the hand, he dragged him over to the tub, motioning for him to finish stripping and get in the water just like this was any other bath. But it wasn’t just any other bath to Geralt because the words "Jaskier, you’re my soulmate" were on the tip of his tongue, threatening to fall out of his mouth the next time he opened it.

Instead of letting the words tumble out, Geralt pursed his lips together and did as Jaskier wanted, submerging himself into the bath. Jaskier was already behind him, scooping up water to wet Geralt’s hair and working his fingers through the tangles in the thick white locks.

“Damn, you’re so tense today. Just relax,” Jaskier pushed down on Geralt’s stiff shoulders and smoothed his hands across the firm muscles until they began to loosen. Geralt tried his best to relax underneath Jaskier’s diligent hands, thinking about all the times that Jaskier had told him he needed to let himself get taken care of more often and this _usually_ would be one of the few times Geralt would feel at ease, except right now his mind was going a mile a minute conjuring up all the different ways Jaskier could react to his confession.

“Jaskier?”

“Hm?” The bard had taken out his soaps and was beginning to lather Geralt’s hair, cleaning it of all the dirt and dried up monster fluids, and replacing the scent of campfire smoke, which always seemed to cling to him, with the softer fragrance of chamomile.

He was so close. All he needed to do was open his mouth and just fucking say it.

“I— we are— _you are my soulmate_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally rewrote this chapter just so it could be a bath scene, sorry not sorry ;)  
> Also lemme know if you guys want this story to go into the events of episode 6 (of course it would be a little different than what happened in canon).
> 
> P.S. I'm looking for a beta reader for a new geraskier fic im currently writing so if your interested pls go message me on tumblr @nanero11 :)


	6. part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoaa sorry this took like 5 years everyone, i was really struggling on the dialogue but i think i got it right in the end.  
> hope everyone is staying safe out there :)

He had done it. He had finally told him. But the weight he thought would be lifted off his chest just seemed to slither its way down into his gut, like there were eels made out of nausea swimming around in his stomach.

The hands in his hair stilled for a moment before continuing the washing process, as though the brief inactivity had just been an involuntary stutter.

The longer the seconds of silence dragged on the tighter Geralt’s throat began to feel and the more the eels of nausea in his gut seemed to coil into a rigid ball of regret. He had made a mistake. Of course, he had read the whole situation wrong.

Why? He couldn’t figure out _why_ he was so fucking stupid. He didn’t want to lose Jaskier, the only person that made him _feel_. He didn’t want to lose Jaskier because he wanted to be the one that made the bard smile and laugh. He wanted to be the person that was by Jaskier’s side when the bard was giddy with glee after finding a new obsession, the one that guided Jaskier to bed when he was too drunk to stand, the one that calmed the bard down when he was angry, the one that watched over Jaskier when he was asleep to make sure he was safe.

And he-he couldn’t lose him because Jaskier was the only person that really cared about him and Geralt wanted to take care of Jaskier too, like the bard had done for him, and Geralt still had to show Jaskier how important he was to him. But…fuck, he had really done it now. No matter what, he wouldn’t ask Jaskier to accompany him anymore if he was uncomfortable, that would just be selfish. But, maybe, _maybe_ , he could still fix this. He just had to play it off, and then they could go on like it had never even happened.

He clenched his hands into fists, letting the feeling of his nails biting into his palms ground him, and attempted to clear his throat, but it really just sounded like a pathetic grunt.

“I know.” The bard’s voice was soft.

“What?”

“I know that we are soulmates, Geralt,” Jaskier said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe it was.

“When…” Geralt took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say. This wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting. He thought that the bard would either deny him right away or be happy Geralt had finally brought it up, but this? He had no idea what to do with this response.

“When did I know?” Jaskier finished his question for him. “Well, I suppose I knew since the very beginning.”

“But you never…you never _said_ anything about it. You never _did_ anything about it.”

“You’re one to talk!” the bard snapped. Geralt immediately stiffened, the truth in the words stinging him.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to yell like that.” Jaskier’s hands slowly drifted out of Geralt’s hair and down to clutch at the edge of the tub. “I’m happy. I am. It’s just—” he sighed, “it’s just been so long.”

Geralt drew his eyebrows together and huffed, turning around so that he could face Jaskier. “But, you could’ve—”

“No, Geralt, I couldn’t have.” Jaskier released his hold on the tub, so that he could instead gently cup Geralt’s face between his palms. “You have to understand that I needed to wait for you. I didn’t want some change in vision dictating what we had between us. Besides, just because I knew what I wanted and was ready to explore this, didn’t mean you were. I wanted _you_ to come to me, when _you_ were ready.”

Geralt relaxed at Jaskier’s confession, letting his head sink into the bard’s hands. “This whole time I thought you just didn’t want me.”

“What? No. How could you think that?” The bard’s face contorted into one of distress, a deep frown taking over his features.

“Well, it’s just—” Geralt gulped and averted his gaze to the side, struggling to force the words out as Jaskier intently looked at him. “I know that I’m not really desirable, is all.”

Jaskier immediately opened his mouth to retort, “How can you say that?”

Geralt just let out another grunt, not sure how he could possibly explain it to Jaskier. How he could explain that he just simply wasn’t worthy of the bard’s affections. That he was a mess and he knew it and he didn’t want Jaskier to have to deal with that. That suddenly all those feelings felt stupid to have in the first place because of how vehemently Jaskier had denied Geralt’s fears of the bard not wanting him.

“Geralt, darling, _look_ at me.” Jaskier coaxed Geralt to redirect his gaze back to the bard’s face. For a second, he sat there stunned, all the colors around Jaskier seemed to be _shining._ Geralt hadn’t known that they could get any brighter, any more vivid, than they had been before, but for some reason the more intense shades felt right, like he hadn't really been seeing before but now he truly was.

“I’m not going to let you doubt yourself like that, okay?” Jaskier paused briefly, allowing Geralt time to nod. The bard continued on with a small smile. “After all, we have _so much_ time to make up for.”


End file.
